You Can Be My Spring
by magicmumu
Summary: ...and if anyone were to ask me what season it was, I would have told them that it was Spring, for it always felt like Spring when I was with you..." Femslash Warning: GinnyLuna


You Can Be My Spring

by Erin Griffin

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Ginny/Luna

Summary: "...and if anyone were to ask me what season it was, I would have told them that it was Spring, for it always felt like Spring when I was with you..."

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story. JK Rowling does.

Note: Dedicated to zagury for the prompt "You can be my someone you can be my spring". Though I never actually use all of the words in the story, I hope this still worked. Got fluffy in the end. Makes me want to pet it.

My eyes watched as you danced barefoot in the grass, your golden hair whipping about as you hopped from foot to foot. "Do you think mer-fairies dance this way?" you asked me. Once you slowed down enough to look in my direction, I shook my head.

"How can they, when you've perfected the art? You'd only make them jealous, forcing them to quit before they've tried," I replied, playing with the flower in my hand. You had picked for me just moments before you'd kicked off your shoes, telling me to make sure the Slingdrop Beetles didn't crawl inside and have babies in your shoes before you could get them back on. I had nodded and took my job as your shoe guardian seriously, laying them in my lap. This answer pleased you, and I was glad for that. "The Whipple-turned Fairies, however, might give you a run for your money," I told her as an afterthought. I had heard so many of your stories on the Whipple-turned Fairies that I figured this statement to be true. At your nod, I figured I was right.

"I think I will just have to practice some more. Maybe if they know that I am trying, they might want to dance with me sometime."

"Surely not while I'm about. They won't want anything to do with a clumsy human like me," I replied.

"Then I'll have to teach you how to dance and make sure that you practice everyday." At this, you leaned forward and reached for my hand.

"Your shoes," I protested.

"Let them have their fun," you responded, dragging me to my feet. I wondered if I should take my shoes off as well, but you made the desistion for me. You bend down to unlace my shoes, and I kicked out of them, removing my socks and throwing them in the random direction of where your shoes were, and where mine lay neatly beside them. "Now, stand here," you said to me, and I did as I was told, though I was not sure just what you were about to teach me. Then you began to move again, and all I could do was follow behind you, almost slipping once or twice as I landed wrong. Still we giggled at eachother, and I looked up at the dark grey clouds, feeling the rain as it fell upon us, as it had steadily for the last hour. I wanted to stay inside and avoid the rain, but all you wanted to do was dance, and I followed after you to make sure you didn't stay out in it for too long and catch a cold. I knew how much you loved dancing in the rain, but if no one checked up on you, you could stay out there for hours.

You took my hands in yours and began to step from side to side, and I followed. I looked at you; your eyes twinkled and a smile appeared on your lips. Just like that, I couldn't feel the rain anymore, and if anyone were to ask me what season it was, I would have told them that it was Spring, for it always felt like Spring when I was with you. You shifted our hands, and you wrapped an arm around my waist, moving my hand so that it was on your shoulder, and took my other hand, holding it outwards. Together we started a bit of a tango'd waltz, you twirling me around and laughing. A few minutes later, a clap of thunder was heard overhead, and I looked at you. "We should get inside," you said to me, "I don't want you to catch a cold."

"A few more minutes," I said, and you nodded. You gently pulled me into you, our chests meeting and our feet moving slowly as we danced to the thunder as our background music. "I wish for better weather so I can dance with you longer."

"You can be my Spring," was all you said as a reply. I smiled at that. It wasn't the first romantic thing you've ever said, but it worked for me. I leaned in to kiss you. The rain ran down my neck and onto the back of my shirt as the wind picked up a little bit, forcing the rain as well in your face. You didn't care, and niether did I. If it were to snow or hail at that moment, I am sure we would've still kept on dancing, our feet bare, and our hearts full, because you are my Spring, too.


End file.
